Slip the Jesses
by Adara's Rose
Summary: When a brutally battered human is found in the alley behind one of the most infamous pubs in Denerim, Detectives Alistair Theirin and Zevran Arainai, find themselves thrown into a maelstrom of lies, betrayals, and dirty secrets. They are in a race against time to find out which one of them hides the desire to see Caelan Hawke dead.
1. Chapter 1

Some people will recognise this. A few months back I published a work called "the assault on Caelan Hawke", but I was unhappy with the way it was progressing so I took it down and ripped it apart. From the bloody pieces I created "the hazards of love". I hope you will enjoy reading half as much as I enjoyed writing.

Love to my wonderful betas.

 _ **Bold, italicized font indicates sign language.**_

* * *

 _Oh, the hazards of love -_

 _You'll learn soon enough_

 _the prettiest whistles_

 _won't wrestle the thistles undone_

.

.

It was Thursday evening, and it had rained a truly depressing cold, dark rain most of the day. However, as Detective Alistair Theirin sprinted from his car in the driveway to his front door, it had calmed down considerably. He still felt like a half-drowned cat when he came through the entryway. He hung his sopping coat on the rack, next to a yellow coat he immediately recognised as belonging to Kallian Tabris, his sister-in-law. After he kicked off his uncomfortably leaking shoes, he turned around to empty his pockets onto the small table by the door. It was a beautiful piece of furniture with flowers carved into the dark wood. Each of the four legs ended in a cat sitting on an intricate orb. The entire thing had been disgustingly expensive, what with being hand-crafted and unique, but his wife had wanted it. Alistair had been married for ten years and had yet to learn how to tell his wife 'no'. He chalked it up to her being perfect, and people who said different were lying. It wasn't her fault that most people never saw beyond the pointed ears.

Notebook, pen, cell phone, and guardsman ID badge went into the ceramic bowl. It was shaped like a sleeping mabari, and his brother had given him on his twenty-fifth birthday. It was the only item he had left to remind him of better times.

He hung his socks to dry on the hallway radiator and padded into the kitchen barefoot. As he walked, he tried his best not to notice how his jeans chafed against his legs. The first person he spotted was his father-in-law, Cyrion Tabris, who was setting the table. Cyrion was an elven man in his early fifties, but he looked older. Life hadn't been kind to him, and the lines on his face ran deep. Having been unable to find other work due to being elven, he had spent most of his life doing hard labour. This had left him with a bad back and worn-out joints. These days, he ran a small bookshop in the elven quarter and hired Kallian to do all the heavy lifting. The only non-human player in the city's only elven-friendly cricket team, she was strong enough that she could probably throw Alistair clean across the room if she felt so inclined. You'd never believe it from her slender figure and dainty hands, who were currently at work chopping a head of lettuce. He nodded at them both in greeting, but they were ephemerals compared to the vision by the stove. An elven woman with long golden hair hummed the same tune as her father while she stirred a large pot, the contents of which smelled absolutely divine. Her name was Beatrice, and she was the light of Alistair's whole world.

Alistair slid up behind her, wrapped his arms around her swollen midsection, and rested his hands on her distended belly. If he focused, he could feel one of his sons move lazily beneath his hands. Holding her like this, he had to lean down to smell her hair. Petite Beatrice just barely reached his chest while he towered over her, but she fit just right all the same.

"Hey honey." She turned her head and smiled up at him. "How was work?"

"Boring. Paperwork."

"I thought being a guardsman was ninety-nine point seven percent paperwork?" she teased, her beautiful blue eyes twinkling. Beatrice was the sort of woman who seems to be made up of flowers, sunshine and gentle smiles, until the gloves came off and you realised that those flowers grew on barbed wire. Tonight, however, she seemed to be mostly content and nurturing. Then again, working as a gardener and growing the most beautiful roses in Denerim she was usually nurturing.

"It is," he agreed, "the rest are a statistical errors. Is that your fish soup?"

"Correct." She dipped a spoon and held it up for him to taste.

Alistair moaned in appreciation as the taste exploded on his tongue.

"Did Zevran say when he and Bela was going to be over?" she was referring to his work partner, Zevran Arainai, and his life partner Bela, who coincidentally was Cyrion's third child. "More saffron?"

"No, but they know you're making fish soup so I expect them to be knocking down the door in the next fifteen minutes. And it's perfect, as always."

"Fifteen minutes? That gives you time to shower and change. I've put out fresh towels."

Alistair stared at his wife. He could see the lines of exhaustion around her expressive eyes, and wondered once more what he had done to deserve a woman who always took the time to look after him.

"Maker's breath, I am a lucky man" he whispered reverently as he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

* * *

A few streets away, the Hawke family was also getting ready for Thursday dinner. It used to be Sunday lunch, but since Caelan had started working weekends that had required a change.

"I'll get them" Caelan called as the potato timer went off. A human male of average height, he sported dark hair and a well-kept beard. He'd grown the beard out to hide the feminine form of his chin and jaw in his late teens, and ten years on it was part of him. His mother Leandra still didn't like it, but she was conservative like that. She liked it even less that he had quit his office job to go into woodworking full time, but Caelan chalked it up to her being sore he'd broken up with his then fiancee at the same time. He loved his mother, but she had the unfortunate trait of thinking she knew what was best for everybody. Usually without asking them first.

His younger sister Anna scrambled out of the way as he opened the oven. He pulled out a tray of perfectly golden potatoes, smelling faintly of rosemary. "Pass the salt?" he asked, and she did a weird little half-turn to reach the shaker with her healthy right arm. Anna's left arm had been badly burned in a fire back when she worked as a firefighter. She still could not unbend the fingers or twist the elbow, and most likely, she never would.

"I'll go tell father dinner's ready" she said, disappearing through the door into the living room. Malcolm Hawke was deaf since birth, so she could not simply call out to him.

"Use the blue dish, honey," Leandra ordered as she turned of the stove and poured the gravy into a bowl.

"Sure" Caelan agreed, distracted. The golden colour of the potatoes had made him think of another shade of gold, the most beautiful shade in the world. Then again, if you asked him, everything about Anders was examples of perfection. Eighteen months and he was still completely starstruck over the man, to Anna's endless merriment.

The meat was a bit on the dry side, but once complimented by gravy, it was perfectly fine. Caelan wasted no time complimenting his mother. Leandra'd had a rough time lately and it didn't hurt to cheer her up, especially since his little sister Bethany seemed to be rather subdued. Bethany's twin, Carver, as always said very little but Bethany could usually keep the conversation going with only their mother as a partner.

Once the dinner plates had been cleared and the dessert - Bethany's pecan pie - had been fetched, Caelan couldn't hold back his news any more.

"May I have everyone's attention, please" he asked out loud as he reached over to his father and knocked on the table in his field of vision. As he did, Bethany touched Carver's arm to make him look up from his pie.

 ** _'I have something important to tell you'_** Caelan signed. _ **'I am going to ask Anders to marry me'**_. With those words, he pulled a small box from his pocket, opened it, and passed it to Anna. She admired the exquisite wooden ring inside. She recognised his style of tiny flowers and leaves, and the piece of amber in the middle was a peculiar shade of gold. She handed the box to Carver, then smiling signed 'It's gorgeous'. Carver nodded, giving his brother a thumbs up as he passed the ring to his father.

 _ **'Very beautiful'**_ , Leandra agreed. _ **'You made it yourself?'**_

 _ **'Yes, completely. It's taken me months to find the right stone. It's the colour of his eyes,'**_ Caelan explained proudly.

 _ **'Beautiful'**_ , Bethany echoed her mother, her face unnaturally pale. Malcolm frowned at his daughter's distressed expression.

 _ **'Bethany?'** _He signed, clearly concerned.

Bethany tried to smile but failed miserably. _**'I'm fine'**_ , she replied.

* * *

Alistair and Bela gathered up the plates and took them to the kitchen, fetching the chocolate cake Beatrice had made at the same time.

"Now will you tell us what we're celebrating?" Zevran mock-complained to Anders, who had said very little during the entire meal.

"Yes, tell us!" Kallian urged, "I'm about to faint!"

Anders blushed, but smiled. His amber eyes had a soft, happy glow to them.

"And besides" Beatrice pointed out, "if you and Kali want to eat cake and make it to that show, you're going to have to hurry up."

"Very well," Anders said, accepting a thick slice of cake from Alistair. "I am going to ask Caelan to marry me."

There was complete silence for several moments. Then, three voices cried out in happiness at once, and Anders found himself in a congratulatory group hug with the Tabris siblings.

* * *

Leandra looked at her daughter with obvious concern."What's wrong, honey?" she asked gently as she filled up the dishwasher.

"Oh mum," Bethany's lower lip trembled. "I wish… if only… he always..." she didn't have to say anything else. Leandra knew exactly what she was referring to, and she wiped away a few stray tears from her daughter's cheek.

"It's going to be alright, honey," she promised. "Mum will take care of everything. I'm sure he'll understand once I've talked to him." she didn't exactly know how, but this was her baby girl. Leandra was going to make sure Bethany never had any reason to be this unhappy again. Caelan was usually very understanding; he'd step down gracefully. And then Bethany could have the fairy tale she deserved.

"Mum?" Caelan called from the hallway. "I have to go."

Leandra drew a deep breath, then hurried into the hallway to get a few words with him.

"Be careful," she said, more out of a sense of obligation than anything else. "Caelan, honey, I was thinking- Merrill is such a dear girl-"

Caelan's brown eyes turned cold. "I am not having this discussion again. Anders and I are getting married, and Bethany is going to have to grow the hell up."

Leandra let her arms fall helplessly to the sides. "I just want what's best for everyone," she said quietly.

"No you want what's best for _Bethany_." he snarled, and then he was gone. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Leandra feeling as if something important had just slipped out of her grasp. She didn't know how to get it back.

* * *

Kallian looked at the clock and nearly flew to her feet.

"Anders, we have to go or we'll miss the start!" she cried. Anders was much calmer than the twenty-two year old and finished his cake.

"It was delicious, Bee, as always." He gave Beatrice a quick hug. "Sorry about game night."

"Oh rot," she smiled back, "we'll play next week. You have tickets for opening night; that's much more important. Now go, Kali's right - you don't want to miss the start."

Bela and Zevran looked at each other.

"We should probably go, too." Bela folded zir napkin, even though it had been used.

"Come father, we'll drive you home."

"Thank you," Cyrion said, "let's just help put the dishes way first."

* * *

Caelan pulled his collar up as he hurried down Ostagar street. Once more he cursed both Varric Tethras, his boss, for making him come out this late on a Thursday evening for a paycheck. He also cursed himself for his inability to say no. he could have been safe at home in bed with Anders, but no. He had to be hurrying through an alley that was so dark you could barely see your hand in front of you. The wind and rain were picking up too, and Caelan had no doubt that his shoes would be leaking by the time he got to the Hanged Man.

He stopped for a moment, squinting into the dark. He knew there was a big dumpster about halfway down the alley, and he didn't feel like colliding with it just because he was in a hurry. That's when the voice called out to him.

Both bewildered and angry, he turned around to face the caller. For a moment he was confused; the coat didn't fit in this area at all, and why would the owner of that coat be in town this late at night? He raised his hand to his face in an attempt to see better.

"Oh come on" he groaned when he recognised the person. "I'm not in the mood, okay? Just… just go home, and I'll forget the whole thing and things won't be awkward or anything. Just let it go. _Please_."

He realised a little too late that, for the other person, _letting it go_ was no longer an option.

* * *

Lyrics quoted are from "The Hazards of Love part 1" by the Decemberists.


	2. Chapter 2

The call from dispatch came at that time that's either really late night or obscenely early morning. By the time Alistair had disentangled himself from his soft wife and warm sheets, dressed and driven out to the crime scene, the blood had already dried to a dull, rusty brown. He approached the scene closed off by an over-enthusiastic rookie with an unlimited supply of blue tape, wondering if this was the time when he'd wish he'd stayed back home on the farm like Uncle Eamon had wanted. By the look on Zevran's face, it would at least get close.

Accepting the styrofoam mug of takeaway coffee the elf offered him, Alistair ducked under the tape and approached the area where the usual crime-scene people were milling around.

"Bad?" Alistair not-asked as he approached. The chill that took up camp in his fingers abated somewhat, and he looked to Zevran, who just barely reached his shoulder.

Zevran grimaced as he stared intently at his feet, making sure not to step in any of the blood splattered all over the place like a macabre painting.

"It makes me believe in the evil of mankind," his soft, Antivan accent gave the words an erotic note, but his face was grim. Zevran Arainai, station heartthrob and ruthless seducer until he'd gotten married six months previous, was Alistair's professional partner of five years. It was an old joke between them that their respective life partners had arranged the whole thing. Alistair would not put it past Beatrice and Bela to plot such a thing, but those speculations were not suitable here, so Alistair sipped the coffee and made the same half-walk, half-dance shuffle as his partner as they moved closer. If they stepped in so much as a drop of evidence, the techs were going to murder them. Very, very slowly.

They were standing in a long, narrow alley that led between Ostagar Street and Highever Lane, the two big party streets of Denerim. It would probably have been a very popular shortcut if it wasn't for the lack of streetlights, which made it nearly impossible to navigate even with the grey light of the dawn. The guards had put several large spotlights in strategic parts around the alley, but there was still a feeling of darkness and secrets. If the attack had been premeditated, it was both a risky and safe place to do it in. risky because there were always people nearby, safe because they would most likely not have entered the alley.

As they moved, Alistair remembered his father's words about first impressions. You only see the scene for the first time once, Alistair. If you overlook something important, you've fucked yourself for later. And Maric had known what he had talked about; he had been a guardsman long before Alistair had been born, and a hostage negotiator for the majority of those years. Unfortunately, Maric Theirin had ended up eating his service revolver mere hours after having turned his oldest son in for being the serial rapist and murderer known as the angel maker. The name of Theirin had been marred with suspicion and rumours ever since, but Alistair was not going to let that stop him from doing his job to the best of his ability.

Keeping Maric's words firmly in mind, Alistair looked around. This time, he told himself sternly, he was not going to try to take in everything at once. It only ended up making his neck hurt. There were the usual alley debris; a knocked over trash can, random pieces of rubbish, a worn-out mattress stained by… he did not want to know. And on the ground, a grotesque amount of blood mainly pooled around the head and chest of the chalk outline of a person. Judging by the size of the outline and the proportions of the limbs to the body, Alistair concluded that the victim was most likely human. Beaten badly, but with what sort of weapon he'd have to wait for the CSI's report to find out. As his eyes took in the gory scene, Alistair turned to Zevran.

"Do you know if they've called Isabela?" he asked as he drank some of the coffee. Hot and sweet, it was just the way he wanted it on a night like this. Zevran had, as always, gotten it just right without needing to ask. He was referring to the Blood Spatter Analyst that had in the two months she'd worked in the lab turned out to be one of his favourite people. She was completely outrageous, took no shit from anyone, and seemed to have an instinct for when to be supportive and when to crack a joke. Basically, she reminded him of his wife.

"Yup, they did!" A CSI dressed in spectacularly hideous red overalls looked up from where she was crouched down, taking pictures of the splatter outlining the carefully drawn chalk outline of a body. "Just as I was getting the required twenty winks. Remind me to shoot someone later."

"You're to shoot someone later" Zevran deadpanned. In reply, Isabela flipped him off before going back to her documentation, forcing Alistair to look away to keep from snorting with laughter.

"I thought you had the night off?" he asked instead, reminding himself of the importance to get as much information as possible from everyone.

"I did until some asshole decided to get food poisoning." Isabela sounded more than a little cranky. "Damn him." Her camera snapped a few more times.

Alistair made a sympathetic face. "That sucks on so many levels." He raked a hand through his sandy blonde hair and realised that he'd forgotten to comb it before leaving home. "Do we know anything about the victim?"

"Well, he was still breathing when the guardsmen got here, so there is that. No identity though - idiots forgot to check his pockets. You'll have to ask at the hospital."

Isabela stood up, still clutching the camera. "If there is nothing else, shove off and let me work."

Alistair obediently shoved off, Zevran in tow, towards the edge of the red tape where a uniformed guardsman stood with a very pale young elf. He was thinly dressed, clearly out for a night of clubbing.

"Hello" Alistair said in as kind a voice as he could manage, "was it you who found the body?"  
The youth nodded, eyes enormous and petrified in his slender face.

"What's your name?" Alistair asked, in the same tone of voice.

"Senrion" the youth whispered, barely audible. "I… I was just going to the Pearl. It's elf night." The Pearl was the second most infamous bar in Denerim; basically, anything and anyone was for sale if you had the money. They also had 'free' drinks for non-humans on Thursdays, with the implication that you had to pay for your drinks in trade. Basically, it was a free for all for humans who wanted to take a walk on the wild side.

"And you found the victim?" Zevran's voice was unusually gentle.

"Yes… he was just lying there. So much blood." the youth's lips trembled as if he was about to cry.

"I'm going to have my colleague here drive you home, yeah?" Alistair said when he realised the youth was in shock and not able to tell him anything. He turned to the fresh-faced officer.

"Get his information, I'm going to want to speak to him in the morning. And make sure he gets home safely."

"Yes, sir."

Alistair watched as the officer escorted the trembling Senrion to the squad car, helped him into the passenger seat and drove off.

Then he turned back to the scene, relieved to see that Isabela had put away her camera and seemed hard at work collecting evidence.

* * *

While this was going on in the alley of Ostagar, the healers at Andraste's Grace were preparing for emergency services. Andraste's Grace was the largest hospital in northern Ferelden, and it housed her best healers. One of them, was Anders. He was not exactly happy at being called in, but they were in the middle of flu season and sorely understaffed. There had been no choice but to throw himself into a taxi (car still refused to start) when he got the call. He pushed away the consternation of the other half of the bed still not being slept in when he left, but figured that Caelan was going to show up in the morning with pastries and apologies. He pulled on the elbow high tuning gloves, grimacing at the sticky feel of them. They were made of a material that supposedly made the flow of his magic more easy to direct, but in Anders' opinion it was just another way to control him. However, he wasn't allowed to operate without them, so on they went as he headed into the healing chamber.

"Report" He ordered the nearest nurse as he put his tired mind into the mindset he needed to be as effective as possible.

"Unknown male, head trauma, severe cranial bleeding-" he listened with half an ear, taking in the situation himself. There was an obscene amount of blood; he'd have to deal with that before anything else in order to see the actual extent of the trauma. Well then; deal with the bleeding, repair any busted blood vessels, get a collar in place and get the poor schmuck down to x-ray for brain scans.

"Clear space!" he ordered, and the present personnel scrambled back to give him space to perform his magic.

* * *

Zevran was a highly competent, if reluctant, driver. Exactly why he was so reluctant to drive Alistair had never found out, but he was used to it by this point and simply popped the trunk open to let his partner stuff his small, foldable bike inside. No words were exchanged as they got in the car, and Alistair was unendingly thankful for this as Zevran drove towards Andraste's Grace. The city was quiet, and as they drove through the dark streets they said very little. Alistair took the chance to make sense of what he had learnt so far, and to finish his much needed coffee. As Zevran navigated past the mess of one-way streets of the Market District, Alistair went to pull out the notebook he always had in his front pocket to write down his thoughts and impressions. To his consternation, it was empty except from his phone. It also made no sense as he never left home without it, but then he remembered that he had finished it the previous day and left it on the hall table. No notebook. Shite, no notebook. Hands trembling, he pulled out his phone to- well, he didn't know. Call Beatrice? She was always level-headed and would tell him what to do. As the screen lit up, he saw he had a missed text. With shaking fingers he opened the message and immediately felt a great sense of relief. "New notebook in glove compartment. Sorry about the unicorn. Stay safe, love you. B".

Opening the glove compartment, he immediately spotted a cheerily pink notebook with a frolicking unicorn on the front. It was rather ugly, but he could always buy a new one later. This was an emergency. Clipped to the front was two pens, one black and one green, waiting for him to use them. That woman was a lifesaver. Why she insisted on sticking with him he'd probably never know, but he'd make damn sure to appreciate every moment he got to have her.

"Some nights I wish I'd stayed back on the farm" Alistair muttered as he turned on the overhead light and started writing with the black pen. Black for work, colour for everything else. "I don't understand people. So much blood-" he didn't finish the sentence, in some way not wanting to hear the words in his own voice. Instead, he started drawing a crude layout of the crime scene, listing who had been present and what he had learnt so far.

Zevran made a noncommittal sound as he pulled into the parking lot, getting the car perfectly into the square at the first try. He always made it seem so effortless.

"I'm more worried they won't let us work the case." The elf remarked as they got out of the car and started to walk towards the entrance. "You know the talk. You're a loose cannon and I'm- well." an elf, he didn't say but it hung in the air between them.

"That's rot!" Alistair protested as he reluctantly put the notebook back into his pocket to keep from stumbling over something due to not paying attention. "Greagoir keeps saying we're the best he's got. And you are twice as smart as me on a bad day!"

Zevran's elegant, angular features twisted briefly as he pushed open the doors to the emergency room.

"Yeah, well. Let's do our best. If we're taken off the case, we've at least given our replacements a good place to start."

"Fair enough" Alistair agreed quietly. "Now let's see if we can find someone to answer a few questions."

Zevran nodded once, sharply, then made his way over to a pretty human nurse standing by the reception desk, reading a file.

"Hello sweet thing" he drawled in the way that always made people give him whatever he wanted. He pulled out his badge with a lazy smile. "Detective Arainai. This is my partner, Theirin. You don't happen to know anything about the assault victim brought in tonight?"

The nurse flashed a quick, slightly dazed smile that Alistair knew well. It was the expression most people got when faced with Zevran in full charm mode. It was only a matter of time before she said something about 'not usually liking elves'. However, he felt immensely grateful the woman seemed distracted enough by his partner's looks not to ask uncomfortable questions about his name. Yes, Theirin as in Maric Theirin. Yes, it was very sad that he killed himself. No, he didn't have the urge to follow in his father's footsteps. No urge to kidnap, assault, and murder underage boys with the right colouring either, sorry to disappoint you. He had his brother's looks, not his madness.

"Sorry, he's in surgery." the nurse shook her head. "I can't tell you anything else."

"Do you know who's working on him?" Alistair asked, doing his best not to think of his personal preference.

"Warden," she replied promptly, and Alistair felt a great surge of relief. Anders was one of the best healers in the city, if not the country. If anyone could perform miracles it was him.

The nurse made as if to leave, but luckily the coffee had kick-started Alistair's brain enough to stop her.

"Wait. Please, one more question. Have you figured out the victim's identity yet? There was a mixup at the scene." Alistair pulled out the unicorn notebook once more, getting ready to note down the information.

"Oh. Yes, we have his identity. Caelan Hawke."

Alistair froze, pen raised. Caelan Hawke? It wasn't exactly a common name. But surely it couldn't be that Caelan Hawke. He wondered if Anders had realised whose life he was saving yet. Lucky for him, Zevran was more put together and said;

"If we should need to speak to you further, ma'am-"

"My name is Derington." she replied with a smile that revealed a dimple in her chin. "That's with one R."

"Thank you" Alistair said faintly, hand shaking as he wrote it down. "And thank you for taking time to speak to us."

"Of course. If there was nothing else-"

"Thank you" Zevran injected smoothly, "Please notify us the moment Caelan's out of surgery."

"Of course. You'll inform the family?"

"Yes, of course."

Then the nurse was gone in a flurry of dark hair and white uniform and Zevran and Alistair were left staring at each other.

"I don't think we'll get any further right now" Zevran said grimly, "and I don't know about me, but you look like you could use a shave. And breakfast." Alistair nodded, not bothering to argue the point. Besides, Zevran was right. His wife may say that he was dead sexy in two-day stubble, but she was biased.

"Let's go break the hearts of Serah and Mrs Hawke" Alistair said with a sigh, "then I'll drive you home."

* * *

Anders leaned back, examined his handiwork, and turned to the assistant nurse. "Get him down to x-ray stat and try to figure out who he is" he ordered, a niggling feeling in the back of his mind saying he already knew.

"Yes, sir" she replied, sounding as tired as he felt. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the theater, not wanting to be in the sterile coldness of the room a moment longer than necessary. He might be a good surgeon, but he didn't particularly enjoy it. To be honest, he would have been just as happy as a general practitioner, but his mentor at med school had talked him into surgery. As he removed his gloves, a young nurse hurried towards him, looking frazzled.

"Doctor!" She cried, and he put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

"It's alright, take a deep breath and tell me."

"The man in surgery one, I took care of his clothes."

"I know, that was very good of you." She was new; just an apprentice with wide, anxious eyes.

"I found his ID. Oh, and there were two guards here, Theirin and- I don't remember the name, he was elven-" Alistair and Zevran. Anders immediately felt calmer.

"Arainai. I know them, they're good people. Some of Denerim finest. You informed them?"

"Yes, I gave them the name and emergency contact, like they said in school." her brown eyes were anxious, seeking approval.

"Very good." he praised, and she blushed and looked away.

"Thank you. You did well." Anders soothed, "Oh, by the way - what is his name?"  
"Who? The detective?" She was clearly confused.

"The victim. The name of the victim."

"Oh." She handed him a piece of plastic. An ID card. "Hawke" she said unnecessarily as he looked at it, "Caelan Hawke."

Anders' world shattered into a thousand pieces.

* * *

Malcolm and Leandra Hawke lived in a well-kept two story house in one of the better neighborhoods. It was widely considered middle-class, but if you asked Alistair that was complete rot - prejudice and bigotry at its finest. It would have been the best neighborhood if it wasn't for the fact that it lay so close to the elven alienage. It was also, coincidentally, about three streets over from his own home. Zevran and his partner Bela lived in a condo in town, about ten minutes walk from the station. Alistair's feet grew heavier and heavier as he walked up the neatly raked gravel path, past the flowers shyly peeking up at him in the flower beds. Some of them he recognised from his own garden, but horticulture had always been Beatrice's thing more than his and he had no idea of the names. He rang the doorbell, wishing desperately he did not have to be here.

After a few moments, the door was opened by a young woman in grey sweatpants. She had short dark hair in an elegant bob, and it was clear from her unfocused dark eyes that she had been sleeping.

"Yes?" she asked, not overly friendly but not resentful either.

"I'm Alistair Theirin. This is my partner, Zevran Arainai." Alistair said as he held up his badge. "May I ask who you are, miss?"

"Bethany Hawke. What can I help you with this early?" She sounded more honestly confused than anything else.

"Please, we need to come in and speak to you and your parents. Can you wake them?"

Bethany nodded, then stepped aside.

"The living room is just down the hall" she said, "please wait there while I get them."

The living room was a bright, airy room with furniture worn in a way that spoke of loving use more than age. Alistair examined the pictures hanging on the wall, thinking of the happy family that lived in this house. A family he was there to shatter. He knew the Hawkes had four children, and based on his memory of Caelan's dark brown eyes and strong jaw he quickly identified the most likely candidates. A dark-haired boy looking straight into the camera with solemn features, the shape of his face identical to Caelan's, must be Carver. The younger brother. They'd already seen Bethany, who did not share any obvious features with her brother except for his colouring. There was also several portraits of a pretty blonde woman, who seemed to be laughing or smiling in every picture she was in. She looked absolutely nothing like Caelan, until you looked closer and saw that her eyes, while bright blue, had the exact shape, depth and gleam as his. By eliminating all other possibilities, Alistair drew the conclusion that this was Anna. The eldest sister.

"Beautiful, wasn't she?" A voice cut into his distraction and he spun around, biting back an alarmed curse.

A white-haired woman stood before him, dressed in a purple robe. If it hadn't been for the fact that he was in her house, Alistair would have immediately identified her just by looking at her face. She had her son's high forehead, his strong cheekbones and the slight curl to the lips that made her seem as if she was on the verge of smiling. Her eyes were a bright, worried blue - the blue of Anna and Carver. Leandra Hawke was a beautiful woman, even though clearly past her prime. The years had been good to her.

"Was?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Before the fire." there was a well of sadness in Leandra's eyes, and Alistair's heart stuttered at the realisation that he was about to add to it.

"Mrs Hawke" Alistair said, "please, come sit down with me."

Though clearly reluctant, Leandra did what he asked. She sat down on the sofa nearest the window, subconsciously clasping her husband's hand in hers. Alistair and Zevran took their seats on the other sofa, placed at an angle from the first one so that you could see both the breathtaking view and the people sitting on the other sofa. To Alistair's surprise, Bethany did not place herself next to her parents but instead chose to stand between the sofas, turned towards her father. He got his explanation when the girl raised her hand and started signing.

"My husband is deaf" Leandra said in a matter of fact tone. "Carver too. Please, why do you wake us at this early hour?"

Alistair drew a deep breath, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he tried to think of a way to tell them what he did not want to have to tell them. Thankfully, Zevran sensed his reluctance and said;

"Madam, Serah, when did you last speak to your son, Caelan?"

Confusion warred with fear in Leandra's eyes.

"Last night, why? He was here for dinner. Has something happened?"

"Yes, madam." Zevran's voice was just the right mix of sorrow and determination as he focused his deep blue eyes on the woman.

"At about two this morning, your son Caelan was found savagely beaten in an alley just of Ostagar Street. As we speak, he is in surgery at Andraste's Grace. I regret I cannot tell you more about his condition."

There was a noise that Alastair was never going to forget, no matter how old he got. The wounded, anguished cry of a dying animal, an animal not knowing how to deal with its circumstances but knowing the hunters were closing in. An animal that found itself trapped and helpless, facing certain doom. The noise had come from Malcolm Hawke, who was staring at the detectives with a despair that made tears spring to Alistair's eyes. He was trying to say something, broken sounds coming out of his mouth in a litany of unimaginable despair.

It took a few moments, but eventually Alistair's brain caught on and he managed to interpret the garbled syllables.

"My boy. My boy. My boy."

* * *

After having taken the Hawke family to the hospital and called fellow detective Aveline Vallen to ask her to inform Anna and Carver, Alistair drove Zevran home. Zevran had offered to bike from the hospital, but Alistair wouldn't hear of it. Eventually, the elf had given in and as they pulled in on the street Zevran lived on, the silence was deafening. Neither of them felt like speaking; they'd known each other for eight years and been partners for five, after all. They knew each other well by this point. Finally, Alistair broke the silence.

"Station in two hours?" he offered. Zevran nodded, rubbing his forehead in the way he did when he had a headache coming on.

"Sounds good" he sighed, "I need a shower. Breakfast."

"And Bela?" Alistair teased, wanting to lighten the mood. Zevran cracked a half-smile.

"And Bela." he confirmed, then he was gone. Alistair listened to the sounds of his partner getting his bike from the trunk, then drove home. If he knew Zevran right - and he did - the lovely Bela was going to be awakened this miserable morning to a lover hell bent on burying himself so far in zir body as he could get, just to shut out the world for an hour. To be honest, Alistair was in no position to judge. If it wasn't for the fact that Beatrice was seven months pregnant with twins and sex was out of the question unless she initiated (healer's orders), he'd probably be doing the same thing.

Alistair drove home slowly, watching the city start its day unaware of the horror he had seen that night. And he hadn't even showed up until after the EMTs had gone. He thought of the poor officers that had been first on scene, or worse; the young man who had called it in. They'd have to interview him as fast as possible, he thought as he pulled up on his own street. He blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar car standing in his driveway, wondering who would show up at his door at seven in the morning. As he got closer he saw the sticker for 'Denerim City Firefighters' on the bumper. Kallian, then. Beatrice's sister. Alistair parked on the street, and slowly walked up his driveway. He felt exhausted, but not bodily. He thought again of blood on cobblestones. The cruelty. The horror insinuated by the amount of blood, and how far it had spread. Caelan was still in surgery, and they had no idea how long it would take or what his chances were. Really, they had no idea about anything. Except the fact that someone had wanted Caelan Hawke dead badly enough to beat him to within an inch of his life.

Alistair opened his front door, kicked of his shoes, hung up his coat and placed his notebook and pens on the table by the door. Sighing deeply, he chose to follow his nose and rumbling stomach into the kitchen, where the divine smell of someone making blueberry pancakes was coming from. Ignoring his sister-in-law sitting by the counter, and therefore missing the look of momentary panic and fear on her face, he went straight over to his wife. Beatrice stood by the stove, expertly flipping the promised blueberry pancakes. Her blond curls were done up in her usual messy sleep-braid, and in her pale green nightgown she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on. He kissed a delicately pointed ear before burying his face in her hair. Beatrice put down the spatula, turned off the stove and turned to embrace him.

"Hey, baby" she murmured gently, running her hands down his slightly trembling back. "is it bad?"

"Yeah," he whispered into her hair. "it's... it's bad."


	3. Chapter 3

After having had more of Beatrice's pancakes than his stomach wanted him to (resulting in a mild stomach ache), and showered and shaved, Alistair was ready to go back to the station to start the actual investigation. But first, he had to talk some sense into his wife.

Beatrice was wringing her hands, looking as if she was one lonely puppy away from a crying fit. He hated her crying fits - they always made him want to cry, too.

"Sweetheart" he soothed as he pulled her close. "I know you're worried sick about Anders, but they've got him on sedatives. Zevran is bringing Bela in, so he won't be alone. And you need to rest, remember? The healer was very strict. If he finds out you're out of bed-"

"I know" her smile was wan, but it was there. "He'll have me hospitalized. I hate hospitals."

"And I'll have someone drive Anders here as soon as possible so you can fret over him in person, alright?"

"Alistair!" Beatrice squawked indignantly, but the mild jibe had done it's job - she was smiling properly now. He pressed a loving kiss to her temple, then turned to Kallian.

"Now I can't keep her out of the garden, so I won't even try. But I expect YOU to do all the work. She is to sit in her deck chair and give orders, understand?"

Kallian smiled, not quite as brightly as she usually did but Alistair chalked it up to worrying about her sister and childhood friend.

"I'll only let her up to use the bathroom" she promised solemnly.

"You swear?" he teased, and Kallian cracked a half-smile.

"On the chant."

"If I found out different, I'll charge you with perjury." Alistair warned half-jokingly, kissed Beatrice once more, and then went to the front door to leave.

"Got everything?" Beatrice asked as she waddled after him into the hallway.

"I think so" Alistair replied, trying not to sound too stressed as he pulled his coat on.

"Phone? Keys? Badge? Notebook? Pens?"

Alistair patted his pockets in confirmation for each item.

"Check, check, check, check, and check. Thanks love."

He leaned down to kiss her sweet lips once more. If he could spend a whole day just kissing Beatrice, he'd die happy.

Beatrice smiled and waved as she watched him drive off. Once he was gone, she closed the door and turned to her sister.

"What is it?" Beatrice asked. Kallian frowned in bewilderment.

"I have never in all the years I've known him experienced Alistair forgetting anything." She finally ventured.

"There's nothing wrong with his memory" Beatrice smiled fondly, "but his belief in himself needs a bit of work."

Her face turned grim.

"Now, the _roses_." she said empathically. Kallian paled and swallowed hard.

"Right. The roses."

* * *

Zevran was waiting on the curb as Alistair pulled up, and in his blue coat and worn dark trousers he reminded Alistair of a child with the world on his shoulders. This was an association he did often, but he had never said anything. He liked his balls where they were, thank you very much. Therefore he made no comment on the fact that Zevran's hair was wet when he climbed into the passenger seat. Alistair just flashed a quick smile and started the engine.

"Forgot breakfast?" He asked teasingly as Zevran pulled an apple from his pocket.

"No time" Zevran replied smirking and bit into the crisp fruit. That was the end of the conversation and they drove on in silence for a few minutes.

"If we're going to see that witness, we're driving in the wrong direction" Zevran said as he threw the remains of the apple core onto the floor to Alistair's displeasure.

"I know, but I want to check on Anders. I still can't quite believe this is happening."

"Well," Zevran wiped his fingers on his trousers and pulled out his phone, "that makes two of us."

"Thought Bela didn't like it when you skip breakfast" Alistair couldn't help but say as he pulled the car into the hospital parking lot.

"Ze doesn't usually. But ze was a bit distracted."

"So that's what they call it these days." Alistair laughed softly, then became serious. "want to split up or go together?"

"Best we go together, I think. First impressions."

"Fair enough. Let's go track down the nurse responsible for him and then talk to Anders."

"Sounds like a plan. after that, family I think. We still haven't seen the other sister. She might be able to shed some light. Oh, and that boy from last night, the one who called it in." Zevran had a good point. then again, the eldest Hawkes might be estranged - but Alistair fervently hoped not. If Anna and Caelan Hawke were anything like his wife and sibling-in-law, she probably sat on a well of information.

They managed to catch a rather exhausted-looking nurse Derington in the staff canteen, and over what looked like some very unhappy eggs and extremely underfed bacon she told them what little she knew.

"The first healing went well, and we have taken multiple x-rays of his skull. He's in a magical coma to accelerate the healing. Uhm… the healer's put a drain in, fluid keeps building up in the skull base. But his heart is strong, and we see no reason why he shouldn't survive."

There was a moment of silence as Alistair scribbled in his notebook. Then the nurse raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

"Unicorns, really?" Alistair felt his cheeks heat in an embarrassed blush.

"It was on sale." He murmured.

* * *

As they searched the Intense Healing Ward, Zevran nearly collided with a human woman who was about as tall as Alistair. The majority of her face was hidden in a handkerchief, and they could clearly see her shoulders shaking. She had a long, thick braid of blond hair hanging over one shoulder and Alistair wondered, somewhat irrelevantly, if it was a modern style. Beatrice wore her hair like that sometimes.

"Sorry" she hiccuped and looked up, giving Alistair a good look at her face.

It was a ruin.

The entire left side of her face was a twisted mess of blackened skin and burnt flesh, the bright blue eye in the middle of the mess horrifyingly perfect. Her left arm was tied over her chest with a beaded scarf, the same colour as her green dress.

"Quite all right, miss-?" Zevran helped her regain her balance, the smile on his face more kind than salacious.

"Mrs. Hawke. Anna Hawke. We took my name." her voice was decidedly croaky, and Alistair looked around for some sort of water dispenser. She must be thirsty from all her crying; the non-scarred part of her face was blotchy and tears kept leaking from the right eye. The left one, though, was dry and cool. Seeing where his gaze was going, Anna Hawke murmured

"It's glass." Ah. that would explain it.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't stare." Alistair felt ashamed; he was a guardsman, for maker's sake. Hadn't he seen a lot worse than a burned woman?

"It's okay" she said in the same tone as before, "I'm used to it." Somehow he highly doubted that. People staring at you like they wondered what planet you were from wasn't something you ever got used to, in his experience. Especially for Anna Hawke, who had been a true beauty before the fire that nearly killed her.

"You must have just seen your brother?" Zevran asked as he escorted Anna over to one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs the hospital insisted on putting anywhere there was room (and some places there weren't).

Anna nodded.

"Yes. It was... oh maker, it was terrible. You can't even see his face with all the bandages." She started sobbing again, and from somewhere in his coat Zevran produced a dry handkerchief to replace the soaked one she was pressing to her face. Anna took it with obvious gratitude.

"Who are you?" She asked when she'd calmed down somewhat.

"I am Zevran Arainai, with the Denerim Guard. This is my partner, Alistair Theirin. We're investigating your brother's case."

"Please, Mrs Hawke" Alistair said as he pulled out his notebook and a pen. "We understand that this is a terrible time for you, but we need to ask you a few questions."

"Oh" Anna wiped at her eye again, her lips trembling. "of course. Anything."

"How would you describe Caelan to someone who has never met him?" Alistair began, wanting the easy ones done first. Anna didn't seem to have heard him, staring intently at his face.

"Alistair, Sorry" she finally said, "I didn't recognise you. How's Beatrice?"

"Calm as a cucumber, at least when I'm at home. But I think she's getting really, really bored. The healers have her on bedrest."

Anna laughed, but it sounded more like a sob.

"As if she'd listen." Alistair couldn't help but smile. Of course Beatrice hadn't listened.

"I'm glad it's you working on Caelan's... case. You're a good man. I'll help in any way I can."

"The best way for you to help, Mrs Hawke," Zevran cut in. He had vanished for a few moments, but was now back with a mug of coffee he offered to Anna. "Is to answer our questions as well as you can."

"Thanks" she said distractedly, put the handkerchief down on her lap and accepted the mug.

Alistair repeated his previous question, and Anna frowned in thought.

"Kind" she finally said. "Generous. Funny. Bit of a temper."

"Bit of a temper?" Alistair prompted. Anna made a face.

"yeah, he... he can be very protective. and he... when he gets mad, he tends to... mum calls it 'talking with fists'."

Alistair made a non-committal sound and wrote 'tends to get into fights' in his notebook.

"Has he gotten in any fights lately?" Anna's eyes flickered, suddenly unable to look at him.

"Just the usual. He works nights at the Hanged Man. He's a bartender. It's a rowdy crowd most nights." That was an understatement. The Hanged Man was the most infamous place in Denerim. Basically, if you wanted a fight you went to the Man.

"Anyone specific that comes to mind?" Zevran asked carefully.

"Uhm... he threw out a guy a few nights ago. It's really Ashaad's job but- the guy stood outside screaming he was going to kill Kee - I mean Caelan - until the cops showed up." She made a noise of pure horror. "Oh maker" she gasped, "what if he came back and-"

Zevran put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Mrs Hawke, please try to stay calm" Alistair said, "we don't know that yet. And your brother is getting the best care possible. Do you happen to know the name of this man?"

"No, sorry. Ask Varric. Or Sera. Varric's the owner. Sera's a waitress."

"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your brother, Mrs Hawke?" Alistair asked as he took down the names.

"No, people like him. He's... he's really charming, you know? People like him whether they want to or not." It was a strange way to phrase things, that last bit. But Alistair and Zevran looked briefly at each other; they'd have to wait. Anna Hawke was not in any condition to tell them anything else.

"Thank you for your time, Mrs Hawke" Zevran said. "May my partner please have your contact information, so we can contact you later for more questions?"

"Yes, yes of course" Anna seemed a bit startled. "Don't you need to ask anything else?"

"Not at this point in time. Thank you, you have been very helpful."

They got Anna Hawke into a taxi home, and then went to see Anders.

* * *

They found Anders in a small meeting room, and the first impression Alistair got was that he looked like one of those white tigers in the zoo. Pale as a sheet and brimming with barely restrained fury.

"Fucking bastards!" He snarled the moment the guards came in. He took a few steps towards them, then made a helpless gesture and went right back to his pacing.

"Yes, I am" Zevran said in a teasing tone, "what's that to do with anything?"

Anders spun on his heel, so that he was once more facing them. He looked wild, like he was about to come at them conjuring fire and brimstone.

"My Caelan!" he nigh- on bellowed. "Maker, when I find who did this-"

The air crackled with electricity.

"Calm down!" Alistair barked, "I don't want to arrest you for unlawful magic!" he might personally think that the ban of any and all magic that wasn't healing was unfair, but he didn't write law books.

There were a few tense moments, but Anders slowly seemed to get his temper under control. Alistair and Zevran waited, ready to fight or run if the healer lost control of the power flickering in his hazel eyes, but eventually the fury there seemed to temper off.

"Alright" Alistair said eventually, "now can we have a grown up conversation?"

Anders made a face.

"I'm sorry" he said, grudgingly, "I'm behaving like a right arse."

"Which is fully understandable" Zevran said, "but not helping in the slightest."

"No- I- you're right. I just-" Anders clenched his fists, his expression changing to hopelessness as he leaned back against the examination table.

"Six hours" he said in a hollow voice, "and I still don't know how much damage. Oh Maker, he-" he ran a hand over his face and Alistair tamped down the urge to hug him.

"I know we have shit timing" Alistair offered with a self-deprecating smile. He spoke slowly and carefully as if trying to calm an irate cobra. Which was a rather accurate description, according to his experience with upset mages. "But can you tell us anything about Cae- your patient?"

Anders didn't seem to have heard him, staring at something far off in the distance. "My patient" he whispered, "he's my patient..."

Alistair pulled out his notebook and repeated the question.

Anders' face twitched, but then it was as if he had flipped a switch and the cool, professional healer took over.

"There was extensive intracranial bleeding, mostly focused on the back of the head. We expect damage to vision and balance, but cannot say to what extent until the swelling goes down. He is on a drain, and we have in a medical coma which he is expected to be brought out of in a few days. We will be able to tell you more by then."

Alistair nodded, writing as quickly as he could. Anders fell back against the sofa cushions, trembling.

"I can't believe I didn't recognise him immediately. BUt there was so much blood. And I… I just saw a patient, I- oh maker, the blood-" Zevran put his hand back on Anders' knee, patting it consolingly.

"I'm sorry" Anders whispered, "you must think I'm pathetic."

"Of course not" Alistair soothed.

"Anders" Zevran's voice had a gentleness to it that was usually only heard when he was talking to children, "if it was my sweet one I'd be where you are now. I can't imagine living without zir."

"Please Anders" Alistair said again, "we need your help."

Anders turned his head and his tear filled eyes met Alistair's concerned gaze.

"What… what do you need to know?"

"Well, for starters: pretend that we have no idea here you were last night." Anders nodded in understanding.

"I had dinner with my best friend Bela Tabris and zir family at six. After that, my friend Kallian and I went to the theatre to see that new medieval costume drama the Chasind Girl. Kali won the tickets in some raffle. It was opening night. It was... About as bad as you think" he laughed softly. "But Kali liked it. I got home about… midnight, I think."

"Do you live together, you and Caelan?" Zevran asked, just as careful as Alistair.

Anders nodded, rubbing his eyes to hold back the tears.

"Yeah. But he wasn't home. I didn't think about it… he was meeting his family for Thursday Dinner, then he was going to stop by work to help with deliveries. He has Thursdays off usually but there was some mix up and Varric asked if he could help out… I figured he'd be there when... When I woke up…" his lips quivered.

Wanting to distract the other man, Alistair asked,

"How did you guys meet? Bee never told me."

Anders laughed. It was a brittle, shaky noise, but a laugh nonetheless.

"We… Mrs Hawke is a painter, you know? She had a vernissage. I'm not really into that scene, but… when Bethany invited me…"

"You know Bethany Hawke?" Zevran interrupted. Anders looked momentarily confused, but finally nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah… I work part time at the university and she was in my class… smart girl, always in the front seat. Asked a lot of questions. She asked me if I'd like to go and I figured I'd been spending most of my nights in front of the TV with Pounce anyway so..." Alistair wondered, as Zevran asked about Pounce, if Bethany had had ulterior motives. Alistair might be strictly for the ladies, but he had eyes in his head. Anders was a very attractive man.

"Pounce? He's my cat. Oh shit, who's looking after Pounce?" Distress had crept into Anders' voice.

"We'll have someone go over right away." Alistair soothed. "So you went to the vernissage?"

"Yeah…"

* * *

 _-Flashback-_

 _It was one of those fine Kingsway evenings when the air is just on the verge of becoming cold, and in the little gallery a crowd had already started forming. Anders ducked past a group of men and made his way over to where a middle-aged, prematurely grey woman stood, chatting with a younger brunette and a man that seemed to be slightly older than the first woman._

 _"Leandra" he said by way of greeting, "congratulations to the showcase! You are brilliant, and the art is fantastic." The middle-aged woman laughed, bright and twinkling, as she accepted his congratulations with good cheer._

 _"Oh, Anders, you hopeless flatterer. Thank you!" She said, clearly delighted. Anders greeted her two companions, Malcolm and Bethany Hawke, and pointedly did not acknowledge the way Bethany was looking at him._

 _"You need to make your wife understand how great she is" he said instead, as he accepted a glass of bubbly from a passing waiter. Malcolm Hawke, whom he had been directing his comment to, smiled at Anders and signed a short 'hello' followed by 'thank you'. Anders felt immensely grateful that Bethany had taught him a few phrases. Just then, a pretty blonde woman in a stunning blue dress sailed up to them, hugging Leandra._

 _"Mum" she crowed, "guess what, you've just sold your first painting!" Then she seemed to realise that Anders was present and held out her hand for him to shake._

 _"Anders, right? Bethany won't stop talking about you."_

 _"Anna!" Bethany hissed, turning beet red with embarrassment._

 _"What did I say now, lil sis?" Anna teased._

 _"I sold a painting?" Leandra interrupted just as Anna was about to say something else. "Which one?"_

 _"Oh, that" Anna's already beaming smile intensified a bit more. "Anna at resquiat!" She cried, turning a few heads with the volume._

 _"Anna at rest?" Anders asked, "which one is that?" Anna gestured with her glass towards a painting that hung at the other end of the room. It was an oil canvas, done in soft muted shades of orange and yellow. On it they saw a badly disfigured woman lying on her side, facing away from the camera. The lines of her body were relaxed and her golden hair tumbled freely over a white pillow. Anders admired the fine lines and details for a few moments, then turned his gaze back to the subject standing beside him. In her blue dress, Anna's burned and twisted skin seemed to soften, as if the marks had been gently painted on instead of gouged into her flesh. The burned arm was wrapped in a fine blue silk shawl that had been tied around her waist in a way Bethany had said she did when it was sore. Anders sipped more of the excellent champagne and was about to ask something else, when a white-haired elf dressed all in black came up to them and put his arm around Anna's waist._

 _"Hey babe" he said and stole a kiss from her smiling lips. He had to stand up tall to reach, but even though she was so much taller than him she fit perfectly against his side._

 _"Fenris" Leandra said, and a chill tone had slipped into her voice. Anders had no idea what the story was, but Leandra's distaste clearly slipped of Fenris like water off a duck's back, as he ignored it and instead sneaked a sip from Anna's glass._

 _"You're driving" she admonished._

 _"I know. But one sip doesn't hurt. By the way, I might have done something you'll not like."_

 _"What did you do, shell out a bucketload of money on something frivolous?" Bethany teased, finally breaking her gaze away from Anders._

 _"Yes." Fenris replied gravelly._

 _"What did you do, hon?" Anna asked as she leaned against him._

 _"I bought a painting" Fenris said as if reluctant to tell. They all stared at him._

 _"Anna et resquiat?" Malcolm said, incredulous. "you bought it?"_

 _"I thought it'd look good in my office" Fenris said, suddenly finding his boots very interesting._

 _"That simply won't do" Anna protested as she kissed his cheek. "It must obviously hang in the living room."_

 _The evening passed slowly; Anders was, admittedly, not a particularly artsy person and within twenty minutes he'd had two glasses of champagne and seen his fill of Leandra's paintings. Besides, the champagne was going to his head. He headed over to Leandra to thank her for a lovely evening and make his excuses, but promptly forgot what he was about to say when he saw the Adonis standing beside her, laughing in a way that made his dark eyes sparkle. The man was tall and broad, his skin tanned in the way heavy labourers are, and he had dark shaggy hair. Anders found to his surprise that he wanted to know what the man's short, neat beard felt rubbing against the inside if his thighs and blushed profusely, even without having said anything to the hunk. Just as he was about to fade away from the mortification at finding himself sporting an instant erection Leandra turned around and noticed him._

 _"Anders! I was just looking for you. This is Caelan, my eldest." Adonis held out a strong, callused hand for Anders to shake. His grip was firm and warm, and Anders felt his knees go weak. This was ridiculous, he hadn't been this instantly excited since he was a teenager. And yet here he was, wanting nothing but to climb this… this Caelan like a particularly delicious tree. Caelan's gaze was setting him aflame, those dark eyes eating him up as they roved over Anders' body, lingering at his groin and thighs._

 _"Nice to meet you" Caelan said, and it wasn't fair how his voice could sound like 'hey sexy wanna get naked' when he was just saying a general greeting phrase._

 _"Uhm… hello" Anders managed to stammer, cheeks burning as his knees started to shake. He reluctantly tore his hand away from Caelan's and tried to play it cool._

 _"I… It's very nice to meet you" he managed to stammer out without sounding too much like 'I want to get on my knees and suck your cock right now, is that okay with you?'. He felt very proud of himself. Especially as Caelan's dark gaze seemed to intensify, freezing him to the spot and setting him on fire at the same time._

 _"Same" and his voice was a purr, his eyes raking over Anders' body with blatant interest. Anders' personal god must be laughing his ass of as all of Anders' blood rushed from his head to pool in his groin, erection growing at an alarming rate even in the confined space of his favourite tight jeans._

 _"I- excuse me" he stammered, desperately, before practically fleeing for the men's room. He splashed his face with cool water and tried to think of anything that would calm the want throbbing in his entire body - how to measure body temperature on a body having been submerged in water, for example. Except that just produced images of Caelan Hawke in skimpy bathing shorts, rising from the water like some ancient demigod. Anders groaned in a mix of trepidation and arousal, knees going weak._

 _That's when the door opened and the desire demon himself slipped in, making sure to check behind him. Then he slid up behind a trembling Anders, pressing close as if invited._

 _"Hey" he breathed into Anders' ear as his hands started to roam, "We haven't met. But if you don't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to get ideas."_

 _Anders laughed, wild and breathless and excited._

 _"Get ideas" he gasped, turning his head to the side to bare his neck. He was rewarded by Caelan raking his teeth over the sensitive skin as a calloused hand started to undo Anders' zipper._

 _-End flashback-_

* * *

"Been together since, huh?" Zevran smiled. Anders smiled back, a smile so full of love and happiness it made Alistair's heart stutter a little.

"I guess I should feel sorry… he was engaged at the time… Merrill's a sweet girl I suppose. But I'm not. He's… I fell in love with him that night, I think. He's… I'm supposed to spend my life with him." A tear slipped unbidden down Anders' cheek. "And some sick bastard has just tried to take him away from me."

"Can you think of any sick bastards in particular?" Alistair asked just as the door opened to admit Bela Tabris.

Bela was a beautiful elf with high, elegant cheekbones, full lips and startlingly green eyes, hair falling about zir face like a curtain of crimson. Ze was dressed in the usual black dress trousers and a very pretty, feminine lavender blouse that molded perfectly over zir flat chest. Alistair found himself briefly distracted, wondering how many had tried to figure out if they were talking to a man or a woman when interacting with the elf this day. To be fair, he still had that problem sometimes. The distinct lack of what society deemed as masculine or feminine traits in the elf's appearance only increased the confusion, he'd found. Also, as he'd learnt the hard way, referring to Bela as an it might help his brain, but it pissed off his wife to no end. But she'd been ten times more pissed when he'd accidentally referred to Bela as "her brother", so… yeah. Best not spend any energy trying to figure that out and just roll with the punches and try to remember the correct pronouns.

"I'm sorry" Bela said politely as ze spotted the detectives, "I'll wait outside."

"No, please come in" Zevran said with a disgustingly adoring gaze at his partner, "We're done for now anyways."

"Let me repeat the question" Alistair interrupted. "Anders, can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt Caelan?"

Anders shook his head firmly. "No."

"How about Karl?" Bela interjected.

"I haven't seen Karl for four years" Anders replied, brows furrowing. "I don't see-"

"He said if you ever left him he'd kill you." Bela pointed out.

Anders looked unhappy.  
"He was high."

"Anders, he was _always_ high."

"Who is this Karl?" Alistair interrupted, frustrated.

"Karl Thekla. Anders' ex. Real piece of work" Bela's lovely face twisted in a scowl. "And that's putting it mildly."

"He was a nice guy before…" Anders hung his head. "Before the lyrium." Lyrium was a very popular party drug, giving the taker seemingly endless energy. It was also highly addictive, and had ruined more lives than Alistair wanted to think of.

"Alright" Alistair closed his notebook, "Thank you. Do try to rest, and we can come back later." Alistair nodded politely at Bela and left the room, giving Zevran a moment to say… whatever... To Bela. In a few moments, Zevran joined him in the hallway.

"Karl" he said, thoughtfully. "Might be something there."

"We'll need to find him. But first I think we should talk to that boy. Then to the hanged man" Alistair replied.

"Sounds good. Drinks are on you."

"What, again?"

"Drinks are always on you, my friend. You're the lightweight." With a friendly pat to Alistair's shoulder, Zevran sauntered towards the exit.

Alistair followed, grumbling.

Back in the room, Bela pulled Anders into his arms and held him close, offering silent comfort.

* * *

Senrion seemed even younger in the harsh light of day, without the dramatic makeup from the previous night.

"I know you've been through an ordeal" Alistair said in his best Mr Nice Guy voice. It was the voice he used to make little old ladies tell him about the men they'd loved when they were young and everything else he could possibly want to know.

"Yes" Senrion whispered, lips trembling. "I couldn't sleep. But Eiric looked after me." Zevran raised an eyebrow at the young guardsman that sat next to Senrion on the couch. It was the same one that had escorted the boy home from the crime scene. The man blushed deeply, but didn't move.

"Can you tell us?" Alistair cajoled.

"I already did" the boy whispered.

"I know, but we need you to tell us again."

"I… I was going to meet a few friends at the club - The Ivy, on Ostagar - so I thought I'd take the shortcut. Not many people use it since it's really dark but I always do. Nothing bad ever happens." He paled when he realised that the night before, something very bad had happened.

"Did you see anything but the victim?"

Senrion hesitated, clearly unsure about something.

"I'm not sure" he whispered, and Eiric laid his hand on the youth's high. It was more a comforting gesture than anything else, but it still spoke of a familiarity that made Zevan smirk.

"Please" Alistair said, "tell us anyway. It might be important."

"I… I think I saw someone. In a bright coat. But it was only for a moment and then I saw… the blood. Oh maker, the blood."

"A bright coat? You didn't see the color?"

Senrion flashed an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry detectives. I'm color blind."


	4. Chapter 4

_Everyone sings hallelujah_

 _when my boy walks down the street_

 _Life just kind of dances through ya_

 _from your smile down to your feet_

 _\- The Magnetic Fields, 'when my boy walks down the street'_

* * *

The Hanged Man lay in the prime location in Denerim City, where Ostagar Street and Highever Lane intersected. It was an old pub, some say older than the city, and throughout its long history it had had multiple owners. At the present, it was in the ownership of a dwarf named Varric Tethras. It was rare to see dwarves this far to the south - most of them preferred to stay in or around Orzammar - but Tethras was a well-known face in and about the town. In addition to running the most infamous pub in the country, he also wrote some very interesting novels called "Hard in Hightown", which were marketed as crime fiction but had just enough smut in it to make everyone read them. Alistair had, too, and he had blushed more than he cared to admit over some of the racier scenes.

Varric Tethras himself, as he stood on the doorstep, was of average dwarf size. In other words, he just barely reached Alistair's waist. He had a worn red velvet cloak that was open in the front, resulting in Zevran having a hard time to keep his eyes off the chest hair. He had a jovial smile and cheery nature, but the gaze he levelled on the detectives was very sharp. He also had a heavy gun strapped to his hip.

"I expect you have a license" was the first thing out of Alistair's mouth.

"Naturally." Varric patted the gun fondly like an old friend. "I'd never insult Bianca by making her illegal. Now, I take it you aren't here for drinks. If you are, you're going to have to come back in a few hours. Permit doesn't kick in until five."

"No, no drinks" Zevran said distractedly, still staring at Varric's chest. "Detectives Arainai and Theirin, we need to ask a few questions."

Varric sighed, but let them into the locale. It was much smaller than Alistair had expected, but Zevran moved as if he'd been there before.

"Alright, what do you want to know."

"We need you to tell us about Caelan Hawke." At Alistair's opening, Varric's bored gaze turned sharp.

"Hawke's a good man. Whatever you've been told is nugshit. Has something happened? He never showed up last night, and that's not like him."

"Did you hear there was a battery last night?"

"Yeah, some sucker got his brains bashed in." Apparently, the grim looks on Zevran's and Alistair's faces were enough for Varric to make the connection.

"Hawke" he groaned, "Ah hell kid, who did you piss off now?"

"He pissed people off?" Zevran asked while Alistair got his notebook and pen ready.

"Look he... Hawke's a goody two-shoes, alright? But he's got principles, and a bit of a temper. He'll break your nose if he thinks you're an ass."

"Anyone he thought was an ass lately?" Zevran quipped, and finally managed to tear his eyes away from Varric's _magnificent_ chest hair.

"The usual. Drunk idiots who thought Sera was easy pickings. I keep telling him that we have Ashaad to break chairs over people's heads, but it doesn't stick."

"Do you have names?" Alistair asked.

"No, sorry. But your buddies down at the station should. We called the guards on them. I know Aveline Vallen, so she always makes sure to get your boys down here stat when I call."

Alistair wrote TALK TO AVELINE and underlined it twice.

"Anyone else?"

"Not that I know of, no. But if you stick around for a bit, you can ask Ashaad and Sera. They'll show up within the next half hour or so. The big guy always gives her a ride in. I called them in early since… well, since Hawke didn't show up."

* * *

As it turned out, Ashaad was not just a big guy by dwarven standards. The qunari stood at least two feet taller than Alistair and was about two and a half of Zevran width-wise. He had dark, coarse skin that spoke of a lot of time under the harsh sun of Par Vollen, and his heavy horns curled around his head like those of a very old, very battle-hardened ram. Next to him, the blond elf that had to be Sera looked like a strong breeze was going to knock her over.

"I get the qun" Alistair muttered out of the corner of his mouth, recognizing the gleam in his partner's eyes.

"You never let me have any fun" Zevran muttered back, but sauntered over to Sera.

Alistair approached Ashaad at a slower pace, feeling a bit intimidated by the fact that the qunari had hands that probably could break him in half without making an effort.

"Detective Alistair Theirin" he introduced himself, "I need to speak to you about last night."

The large man nodded slowly, and led the way over to a corner of the pub.

"What's up, detective? Is it about that idiot that thought no meant yes and got handsy even after Sera emptied his drink over his head?"

"No, sorry. It's about Hawke." Something flickered in the qunari's stoic face.

"I saw the obstruction outside. He's not-"

"Not dead, no." Not yet, anyway.

"Good. He's a good man." was the short reply.

"I need to ask a few things about last night." Alistair said and turned to a new page in his notebook. "But first I need your information."

"Ashaad, Cernunnos." the other male said and proceeded to rattle of his address, social security, civil status, and job without prompting. Alistair wondered how often he was questioned by guards.

"Where were you last night?" he asked once he had gotten everything down.

"Here. Until closing, at 11. Varric told me to go home since Hawke was going to help with the delivery and clean-up. I dropped Sera off on the way. She doesn't like me, but likes my bike."

"Bike?"

"Motorbike. Need the license?"

"No, that won't be necessary. Where did you go after that?"

"Home. It was late."

"Can anyone confirm this?"

"Yes. My husband Cole and his boyfriend." Alistair looked up. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Your husband and his... boyfriend?" he asked for clarification.

"That's right. Krem Aclassi, he's a nurse at Andraste's Grace. That's Aclassi with a C. He's tevene."

"To check I got this straight - Krem, your husband's boyfriend, and your husband Cole was home. And you were all watching TV?"

"That's right. Cole Ashaad. He's a psychiatrist."

"Can I have his contact information please."

"I'll do you one better" the hulking qunari said as he pulled out his wallet, rifled through it and found a worn business card.

"Thanks" Alistair said as he pocketed it.

After having given the requested information, Ashaad stood to leave.

In the doorway, he turned to Alistair.

"You don't seem to be judging us. It's a nice change."

Before Alistair had managed to get his brain to come up with an answer, though, the other male was gone.

"As if it's any of my business what you do in the bedroom" he muttered as he picked up his cellphone to call Cole. His instincts told him that Ashaad had nothing to do with the attack, but the faster he could confirm the alibi the better.

* * *

"Well, that was a bust" Zevran muttered crankily as he adjusted his seat belt.

"On the contrary," Alistair said, "we know two things. One; the victim was not supposed to be at the Man last night, so that rules out premeditation. Two: we can eliminate anyone working at the Hanged Man. Oh, and we have a new person of interest."

"Fenris Hawke? Don't rule out premeditation just yet. It might just be the timing that was unplanned."

"Fair enough." Alistair agreed and started the car. "What was your impression of Sera?"

"Grouchier than an egg-sick varghest. She didn't like me much. Then again, I don't think she likes anybody." Zevran snorted with laughter and pulled out his phone.

"Possibility?"

"Doubt it. Bitchier than a starving dog, but she's all bitch, no fight. And not liking someone much isn't a motive."

"it is for some people" Alistair quipped, but removed Sera from his mental list of possibles.

"Have to give her points for being observant, though." he added after a few moments.

"In my experience" Zevran said, not looking up, "waitresses usually are."

"What do you say, lunch or tracking down the ex?" at Zevran's blank look, he added "the female one."

"Both. There's a decent café next door to her place of employment."

"Right" Alistair said, "give me the directions. I suggest we eat first, though."

* * *

After a lunch consisting of surprisingly tasty sandwiches and unfortunately bland coffee, Alistair and Zevran headed into the next door flower shop to speak to Merrill.

"Hello" Alistair said politely to the elderly elven woman making an arrangement of roses in a wide vase. "We are looking for Merrill Talas?"

"In the back" the woman said, not looking up from her work.

Merrill Talas was a young elf woman, mid-twenties if Alistair had to guess, with a nervous air and mousy brown hair. When they told her why they were there, she sank down on a nearby bag of soil and cried.

"My Caelan" she sobbed, "my Caelan, my Caelan, oh gods. My Caelan."

Zevran and Alistair exchanged looks. That was an interesting turn of phrase. From what they knew, Caelan had left Merrill nearly eighteen months ago, the day after having met Anders at the vernissage. Eventually, Merrill calmed down enough to be coherent.

"I loved him" she sniffled, "we were going to get married and have children, such beautiful children. Then he… he just walked away. Said he... He had met the one. But he was my one! I don't understand!" She looked up at them with devastated eyes.

"How could he leave me?" she pleaded.

"We don't always know why people do what they do" Alistair said carefully. He was crap at talking to crying women. He always wanted to sit down and cry with them.

"I was so mad" she sobbed, "so angry with him. How could he just… waltz off with someone else? I saw them around town. They looked so _happy_ _._ He was supposed to be happy with _me!"_

"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt him?" Zevran asked carefully. Merrill shook her head vehemently, then thought about it.

"Sebastian" she finally said. "Sebastian Vael. He used to be engaged to Anna. I think he beat her."

Alistair and Zevran looked at each other again. There was that name once more. Anna Hawke. And the name of a man Caelan had suspected to have hurt Anna Hawke. Exactly how protective of his sister was he?

* * *

At the Denerim city precinct, Alistair managed to find Aveline immediately. To be fair, she was waiting for them in the reception area.

"I heard about Hawke" she said, not bothering with greetings. "It's awful. Have you talked to Anna?"

"You know Anna Hawke?" Aveline gave him a withering look.

"Only for ten years" she snarked. Then her face softened. "She got me through some rough times." Alistair couldn't help but think of Aveline's husband Wesley, who had been killed in the line of duty several years before. Actually, he had been Alistair's partner before he got moved to homicide. Wesley Vallen had been killed when attempting to stop a robbery, and it was tracking down and arresting his killers that had gotten Alistair catapulted into his current position. Some days he still wished with all his heart to be back on the beat, if he could just see Wesley smile again.

Alistair was about to say something encouraging, he didn't know what, when Aveline added;

"You can take Vael off the list. He's a drunk bastard, has been since Anna finally told him to go fuck himself and said yes to Fenris' proposal, but his alibi is fool-proof."

"And this alibi is-?" Aveline rolled her eyes at him, then shook her head hard enough to make her sleek red bob shake.

"Me. I arrested him yesterday afternoon and he spent the night in the tank."

"Thanks, Aveline."

"No problem. Let me know if there is anything else, I'll be at Anna's." With those words, she stalked out the door like a sergeant on her way to whip a group of unruly recruits into shape. Zevran watched her go, full of admiration.

"If Duncan ever retires, remind me to get on her good side" he said.

"Stop flirting with her and you're halfway there" Alistair said in as sagely manner as he could as they got into the elevator.

"Can't help it. She's my type."

"Cis-female version of Bela?"

"Pretty much."

Alistair rolled his eyes at his partner.

"Keep your pants on, Arainai." He said fondly.

* * *

Alistair slammed the phone down and let loose a series of expletives that would have made Beatrice slap him if she'd heard.

"That bad?" Zevran didn't look away from the large whiteboard he was currently drawing lines on.

"Some people are too nosy for their own good and completely oblivious where it counts!" Alistair snarled.

"I take it getting the third degree about your bloodline was the highlight of your day?"

"And no idea where her room-mate has been for the last twenty-four hours."

Zevran shrugged and wrote "AWOL" under the name Karl Thekla.

"Do you want the thankless task of finding him or do we put some poor rookie on it?"

"i thought we could dump it on Aveline" Alistair snarked, making Zevran laugh.

"I'd like to see you try to dump anything on Aveline." Well, he had a point. Few things in this world were scarier than a pissed off Aveline.

They stood in silence for a few moments, looking at the board. Names of everyone that had cropped up so far were spaced out at regular intervals in some sort of pattern that only made sense to Zevran, and Alistair had the distinct impression that it was only a matter of time before the entire thing was going to be drowning in arrows. But that was how his partner rolled - Alistair freaked if he didn't have his notebook to make long complicated notes in, Zevran drew arrows. On _everything_. "Who do you want to talk to first?" Alistair finally asked, "Fenris or Kallian?"

"Fenris, I think. If he had an argument with Caelan mere hours before the attack, it'd be good if we could catch him before he gets his head on straight." Zevran drew a completely logical arrow from Anna Hawke to Fenris, and then a less logical one from Anna Hawke to Merrill Talas.

"Good point. Who drives?" Alistair pulled his coat back on.

"Me, I expect." Zevran replied as he put the marker back in its holder.

* * *

Fenris Hawke was elven and blond, but there ended all similarities between him and Zevran. Zevran's blondness was the warmth of the antivan sun, but Fenris was a frigid wind roaring around the northern pole. The horrifying scars curling over all parts of him that Alistair could see did not help matters in the slightest. In addition, the scars slid in under his clothes in a way that hinted at covering parts they could not see. His chipped, black-painted nails drummed an unending staccato against the worn dining table in the kitchen of the house he shared with Anna Hawke.

"Yeah, Hawke and I had a disagreement. Why?"

"Witnesses say it involved fists." Zevran drawled, not hinting at the fact that so far they only had one witness and they weren't completely sure how reliable she was. Anna made a frustrated noise from where she stood by the counter, chopping some sort of vegetable Alistair could not identify from this angle.

"He struck first" Fenris muttered, petulant like a child.

"Knowing you" Anna's voice was frigid, "he had good reason."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean" Fenris snarled, his skinny hands curling into fists.

"Oh just that lately, you're a jerk on a good day" she snarked back, and Alistair wondered if he and Zevran were about to witness a domestic incident. "on bad days you're a-"

"Shut UP Anna!" Fenris bellowed, his fist connecting with the table. Anna's eyes were blue fire, but she stayed quiet.

"You're not doing yourself any favors" Alistair pointed out, not unkindly.

"Look, I was home all night last night. Watching TV. Had a couple of beers." Anna made a noise that could have been interpreted a multitude of ways, but said nothing. Fenris ignored her.

"Anna got home, when was it babe?"

"Ten. I got home at ten." She said, staring down at the cutting board as if it held all the answers in the world.

"That's right. Then we stayed home all night. Together."

"Right" Anna echoed. "Together."

Alistair and Zevran looked at each other. It was clear they weren't getting anywhere with these two at this moment in time.

"Right" Alistair said as he stood up, "thank you both for your time. We'll be in touch." Zevran said nothing, and together they left the house.

"He's lying" Alistair said the moment the car door closed behind him.

"Yes" Zevran said, turning the key in the ignition. "But about what?"

* * *

Back in the kitchen, the silence was so heavy you'd have needed a whole tribe of qunari to lift it. Fenris stared down at his clenched fists, wanting more than anything to beat the ever living shit out of something. Preferably fragile and breakable.

"Damn you." Anna finally hissed. "Damn you, you bastard."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Fenris glared at his wife. Didn't she know what he was going through?

Anna's voice was shrill as she slammed the knife down on the cutting board hard enough to cause the cheap plastic to crack.

"It means that it'd be a lot easier for me to help you lie to the guards investigating my brother's attack if I knew what it is you don't want them to know!"

"I did not attack him!" Fenris' fist struck the table so hard it caused an inch-deep indentation. He panted harshly from the exertion.

"Then where were you?" Anna screamed, her voice cracking. There was silence.

"Where were you?" She asked again, this time her voice barely more than a whisper.

Fenris turned his face away. Could not stand to see her cry.

"Where were you?" Anna sobbed. Fenris stood up from his chair, walked across the kitchen and put his arms around his wife. She struggled against him at first, but then sank into his embrace like she was shattering.

"You swore you'd never lie to me" She said quietly. He said nothing, just hugged her harder.

Anders sat very still on an uncomfortable chair, staring at Caelan's face. He looked so still and peaceful, as if he was only sleeping. But the thick bandages covering his head and the thick brace holding his neck ruined the image. He had sat there for over an hour, but still couldn't understand it. It made no sense whatsoever. How could the man who danced to bad pop songs in the kitchen and talked baby talk to their cat lie here now, still as if dead?

And he still might die. He had done all he could, and so had the rest of the staff. Now, all they could do was wait and monitor. As a healer, Anders had seen his fair share of the dead and dying. But it was impossible to accept that his Caelan might soon be one of them.

"Come back to me" he begged helplessly. "Please, love, come back to me."


	5. Chapter 5

_So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink_

 _Put you to bed when you've had too much to drink._

 _Oh I could be the one who grows old with you._

 _I wanna grow old with you._

 _Adam Sandler, "Grow old with you"_

* * *

Alistair stepped out of the elevator on the fifth floor of the Denerim City Precinct #6, or into the "murder pen" as it was fondly known as amongst the guards. He didn't understand the need to give it such a name, but there were a lot of things that went straight over his head. Nevermind Beatrice calling him brilliant, Alistair was fully aware that he was a bit slow on the uptake. He always had been, which must have been why the arrest of his brother Cailan had come as a complete shock. The fact that Cailan was the serial killer known as the angel-maker had been an even bigger shock.

Six years since the execution and Alistair still had days when he didn't believe it.

Aveline was at her desk, but she looked up and flashed a quick smile that didn't reach her eyes as he walked past her towards his own desk.

"Duncan wants to see you and Zevran" she said in that infernal neutral tone she had when she knew she was delivering bad news. "And Isabela called. She's found wood chips and white hair, if you find something to compare to. Full report is on its way."

"Thanks" Alistair muttered as he put his carry-mug on his desk. Beatrice had given it to him when she had at last grown tired of him having two sips of his morning coffee before scrambling out the door. Now she handed him his coffee before sending him off with a kiss and "be safe honey". There was still some coffee left in it, but he'd finish it later. And try to remember to rinse it out. Beatrice hated when he brought it home unwashed.

Zevran was on his way towards him from somewhere deeper in the pen, reading a print-out. With some sort of supernatural skill he managed to navigate through the smattering of desks and morning-tired detectives without looking up once, and Alistair felt just a bit bitter. If he tried to walk and read at the same time he invariably tripped over his own feet before finishing the first sentence.

"Morning" he said in that disgustingly cheery way he had when he hadn't slept the previous night.

"Morning" Alistair replied, yawning. "Duncan-"

"Wants to see us. I know. I was waiting for you." Zevran unceremoniously dumped the print-out on his desk and once more Alistair felt irrationally jealous at the casual beauty and grace of his partner. On his bad days, Zevran made him feel like a genlock right out of a children's book.

He forgot all about it, however, as Captain Duncan Kinloch glared at him from over gold-rimmed glasses. The captain's glasses had only been in service for about three months, but they looked right at home on his face. They also did absolutely nothing to soften his stern features. The neatly trimmed beard didn't help, either.

"Theirin. Arainai. Close the door." He ordered, and even though the captain was sitting down Alistair felt small. He closed the door.

"I expect you know why you're here." Duncan said after he had grown tired of seeing two grown men squirm like schoolboys before the headmaster. "The Hawke case."

He rested his elbows on the desk and interlocked his fingers in front of his face. This made his gaze intensify as his hands now covered most of his face.

"I have the chevalier breathing down my neck at the present, and I do not need him setting his vultures on me." he was referring to the internal affairs division. "So if there is the slightest concern raised from anyone that you two are the least bit prejudiced due to your connections to Anders, you are off the case faster than you can say 'compromised'. Understood?"

Alistair nodded, too unnerved to speak. Zevran muttered something that sounded suitably contrite.

Duncan gave them one last sharp look, then his face softened.

"I have told a lot of people that you two are my best men." he told them, "don't make me look stupid."

Thus dismissed, Alistair and Zevran fled back to the safety of the murder pen.

* * *

Kallian Tabris (born Andras, according to the records), was the adopted sister of Beatrice and Bela, younger than the twins by several years. At the present, she looked like a twelve year old child where she sat curled up in the large armchair when in fact she was twenty-two. Alistair knew this because the previous summer he had been yelled at by his wife for being an hour late for Kallian's birthday party. Kallian had long dark hair that fell around her face like a thin curtain, and her eyes seemed almost comically large in her face as she stared at the detectives. She wrapped her thin arms around her knees, as if trying to make herself even smaller. Perhaps she was trying to disappear into the worn, gaudy upholstery.

"Do you know why we're here, Kali?" Zevran asked carefully, not wanting to frighten the girl more than necessary. That was probably why he had chosen to call her by her nickname.

Kallian shook her head no.

"We just want to talk to you about Caelan Hawke." Kallian looked up from behind her hair, brown eyes anxious.

"I don't know anything." she said quickly. Alistair wondered why she was so skittish; this wasn't like Kali at all, he knew her as a strong, outspoken woman who refused to be intimidated by anyone.

"We're not saying you do" Alistair said placatingly as he pulled out his notebook and turned to a fresh page.

"But we have to talk to everyone. And you'll make it a lot easier for us if you give us as much information you can and answer all our questions, okay?" Kallian nodded slowly in confirmation.

"Okay. What do you want to know?" Her voice was nearly back to it's strong, confident normal. But not quite. And she had not yet unwound her arms.

"Where were you on the night Caelan was attacked?" Alistair began, having quickly jotted down the time, place, and people involved in the conversation. It wasn't a real questioning, not yet. They were just getting a feel for if she was involved.

"You know that!" She protested, "I was with you!"

"Please" Zevran interjected, "we have to do this by the book. Tell us about Thursday night."

Kallian swallowed hard, then it was as if she manually pulled herself together and began:  
"I finished work at five, Vivienne - my boss - asked if I could stay a bit, we have a big presentation due soon and she wanted to check in with me. I got to your house - I mean my sister Beatrice's house - at around five thirty. We had a nice dinner - fish soup and chocolate cake, we were celebrating that Anders is going to propose to Caelan."

She stopped as her eyes filled with tears, and Zevran took the chance to interject a question.

"When did you leave for the theatre?"

"Uhm- the show started at eight, so- seven thirty? I think? Anders was- he was really happy, he told me that he'd-" she sniffled as tears filled her dark eyes. "He'd found the perfect ring at the jewellers and made a down payment, I- I was so happy, I made him promise I'll be a bridesmaid. Do you have bridesmaids when there isn't a bride?"

"No idea" Zevran said with a shrug. "I'm sure you can be one anyway." A ghost of a smile flashed over her face.

"So you went to the show" Alistair said, "did anyone see you at the theatre?"

"I don't know, but I still have my ticket, it's cut. I was going to put it in my bujo. I can go fetch it?"

"That won't be necessary. What time did it end?"

"Oh, i'm not sure, sorry, I wasn't looking at the time. It was late though, and getting chilly. So we hurried back to the car. I drove Anders home, and I dropped him off at eleven exactly."

"How do you know this?" Zevran wanted to know.

"Because the eleven o'clock news just came on when-" she stopped, paled, bit her lip.

"Please go on, Kallian."

"I- I saw Karl. On the street. Looking at- looking at the house."

"This is Karl Thekla? Anders' previous partner?"

Kallian's pale face momentarily twisted into a grimace of disgust.

"Abusive asshole." she spat. "I promised Anders-" she cut herself off abruptly, clenching her jaw as if trying to hold something in.

"Did anything happen after that?" Zevran asked, and Alistair wondered if he too sensed that there was something there she didn't want to say.

Kallian shook her head firmly.

"I drove home and went straight to bed. I'd promised I'd come over early and help Beatrice with her roses and needed the sleep."

And with that, there wasn't much more to it. Alistair thanked Kallian, said they'd see themselves out and left with Zevran in tow.

Kallian was left alone in the armchair, staring at something only she could see.

"The roses" she whispered to herself, "Mythal help me, _the roses._ "

* * *

Alistair sighed deeply as Zevran started the car.

"She knows something" he said.

"Yes, but if her alibi checks out she's in the clear. And what's her motive, anyway?"

"Damned if I know. But I remember why I recognized that name now, Karl Thekla."

"Oh?" Zevran momentarily took his eyes off the road and gave Alistair a curious look.

"Yeah, I arrested him. What is it, seven, eight years ago? Domestic charges. The asshole didn't take kindly to Anders dumping him and threw him through a glass door without bothering to open it first. There was blood everywhere. Anders was in a medical coma for three days while they dug all the shards out of his head."

"So Karl being seen on the street outside Anders' apartment would be a bad thing" Zevran mused as he made a rude gesture to a man driving past them at too high a speed and nearly clipping his rear view mirror. "Do we chase that asshole down?"  
"Nah, leave it to traffic. There's a roadblock two streets over. They'll give him a nice big fine and take his license."

"Fair enough. Lunch?"

"Sounds good. Let's go to that place we went to yesterday, by the flower shop."

"I take it you have a plan with that?"

"Yes. I want to know where little miss Merrill was Thursday night."

"You don't think-?"

"You know what they say. Hell hath no fury."

"Alright. Your treat."

"What, again?"

Zevran just laughed at him.

* * *

"Is this the right place?" Alistair turned to Zevran with a frustrated scowl.

"Yes, number fifteen. She's clearly not at home."

Alistair pushed down an urge to kick in the door. That sort of behaviour tended to make internal affairs ask uncomfortable questions about warrants and probable cause. Besides, there were already far too many people thinking him a loose canon who'd prove himself a Theirin any day now and either murder someone or shoot himself. Or both. He rang the doorbell once more, then cursed a blue streak when there still was no response.

"Merrill's at the grocery store" a male voice said and nearly made Alistair jump out of his skin. "She helps me with errands when she can. May I help you gentlemen?"

The voice, as it turned out, belonged to an elven male with rough, dark skin and piercing blue eyes. He introduced himself as Aerwedh Mahariel and in the same breath invited the detectives for tea in a tone that brokered no argument.

Alistair and Zevran exchanged a look as they followed Aerwedh into his apartment, but said nothing as they found themselves seated by a small, rickety kitchen table and being served tea in chipped cups.

"Merrill was here" he told them as they asked about the night of Caelan Hawke's attack. "She spends most nights here. Guilt is a funny thing."

"Guilt?" Zevran wanted to know as he helped himself to the chocolate wafers. He had never been able to resist sweets, and now was no exception.

"Mm, she drove drunk once. Exactly once. But as you know, detectives, once is all it takes." Aerwedh replied sardonically as he stirred a spoonful of honey into his tea. "Hit a tree and totalled the car. Walked away scot free. Tamlen was the one who suffered."

"Tamlen?"

"My husband. Didn't have a bruise on him but his brain- well. No surgery in the world can fix that." He looked up, blue eyes hard as ice. "They expected me to leave him, you know. As if I would. I promised him in weakness and health. I keep my promises, detective."

Alistair sat frozen in horror as the picture in his head cleared. And he froze even more as Aerwedh disappeared into the apartment and came back a short while later pushing a wheelchair. In the chair sat an elven man with sandy blond hair, dressed in tan slacks and a white shirt. The only thing that showed any hint at life were his eyes, which were bright and sharp and stared directly at them.

"Is he-" Alistair managed, regretting it instantly.

"It's called locked in syndrome." Aerwedh smiled bitterly as he rested his cheek against Tamlen's hair. "We'd been married exactly six hours."

* * *

The car door had barely closed behind him before Alistair had his phone in his hand, pressing speed dial one with shaking hands. He had to hear her voice, her beautiful voice.

"Hello?" Beatrice asked, "Ali?" Alistair tried to answer, but he thought of the elves he'd just met and found himself crying too hard to get out anything past "Bee-".

After the worst of the sobs had subsided, Beatrice asked gently;

"Is there anything I can do to help, honey?"

"No" Alistair forced himself to stop sniffling like a little boy, but when he closed his eyes to wipe them he saw his Beatrice lying in a puddle of blood, her sweet smile frozen forever. His breath hitched and he quickly opened his eyes, just in time to see Zevran wipe at his own eyes where he stood just outside the car. The blond elf had his own phone pressed to his ear, and it didn't take much work to figure out who was on the other end.

"Maker, Bee, I met some people today…"

"I know you can't tell me any details" her voice was like warm water, embracing and covering him and making him feel as if nothing mattered but her. "But I'm here. Hey, how about I make you that pasta you like tonight? With extra cheese?"

"Yeah, yeah that'd be good. I'll try to be home at six, okay love?"

"Okay, honey. Love you." and like that, she was gone, and all his despair too. Like always, she'd left him with hope, and faith, and reassurance. He had no idea how she did it, but he sent a quick thanks to the Maker for letting him have her in his life all the same.

Zevran slumped in the driver's seat looking like he'd just been run over by a bus.

"Fuck" he said eloquently.

"Seconded" Alistair replied tiredly. "Onwards and upwards?"

"Yes. Unfortunately. The family?"

"Sounds good. Then home for the day, yeah? Bee's making my favourite."

"Small worlds. Bela's making mine."

They exchanged wry smiles.

"What'll we ever do without them, huh?" Zevran offered.

"I pray that I never have to find out."

"Pray for me too."

* * *

It was early afternoon when Zevran parked the car outside the Hawke residence.

"So, how do we do this?" Alistair asked as he undid his safety belt, "together or do we split up?"

"Experience tells me we get more out of talking to them together." Zevran said as he got out of the car.

"Hmm, point taken." Alistair watched as Zevran strolled up the driveway with his usual easy charm, noting the tension in the shoulders and back that was the only hint at his partner not being as nonchalant as he appeared. He found himself quietly grateful for the act, however, as it grounded him in the present and forced all dark thoughts back into the deepest recesses of his mind. There was a lot of self-doubt there, and anger, and other things he'd really rather not examine too closely.

Leandra Hawke stood in the doorway, nearly as pale as her dress, but she tried her best to smile at the detectives.

"Come in" she said, quietly. "Malcolm and Carver are home, too. I'll get them"

"Thank you" Alistair said and realised that they'd made a mistake. They had no interpreter with them, and thus had to rely on Leandra when talking to the two men. But then again, what reason could she possibly have to lie?

If you wondered what Caelan would look like twenty years from now, all you needed to do was look at his father. Malcolm stood approximately 5'8, same height as his wife, and his face was a more weathered version of his son's strong, handsome features. Alistair found himself reacting to his mere presence like a errant son wanting to please his father. It was more than a little disconcerting, and the feeling was not at all improved by Mr hawke's silence.

"Are you completely deaf?" Zevran asked, and Alistair felt relieved that he did not have to. It was a rather rude and invasive question, but they did not have a choice but to ask.

"Yes" Malcolm signed to his wife, who spoke. "I was born deaf, and so was our youngest boy, Carver."

"What can you tell us about Thursday Night?" Alistair asked, watching the other man's face closely. His thick eyebrows furrowed briefly in what Alistair assumed to be sorrow, then he answered with slow, clear gestures to his wife, whose voice was slightly unsteady as she spoke:

"It was a good night. We were happy, and Caelan had good news for us all. He's going to ask Anders to marry him." Leandra bit back a sob, and Malcolm signed something she didn't interpret. "He left at about nine, saying he was needed at work. Anna left shortly after, wanting to get home to Fenris. I read a book, then went to bed at about eleven."

"Thank you, Mr Hawke." Alistair said, "Can you think of anyone who had any quarrel with Caelan, or would want to hurt him?"

Malcolm frowned at the question, and for a moment his eyes shone with tears. He shook his head firmly no, then seemed to hesitate.

"A few days before, Anna was very upset. Fenris and Caelan had fought. Over her, I think. But no. not something like this. Not Fenris."

Alistair frowned. They really need to talk to Fenris again. Preferably at the station. A quick glance at Zevran told him that his partner was thinking the same thing.

Carver Hawke was tall, broad shouldered, and had the sort of face that would be handsome if it filled in a little and stopped scowling. He was also clearly a cricket player; his walls were decorated with posters, and several medals hung in a little display case. One of those modern, expensive Nevarrite bats was propped up against the bookcase. Alistair shuddered at the thought of how much it must have cost; he had seen Kallian, who also played, sigh over it in a brochure.

"I was here all night" was all he seemed willing to say, but he couldn't look Alistair in the eye which immediately put the detective on edge.

"And can anyone confirm that?" he said, mostly because he could, and Carver's scowl deepened.

"Why?" Leandra's voice was soft, but the way Carver signed gave the distinct impression of anger and frustration.

"Because I need to check your alibi. Or is there something you feel I need to know?"

"Carver demonstratively turned his back to them.

"I'm sorry" Leandra looked ready to cry. "He has been like this since… since we heard- we were all home-"

"It's alright, Mrs Hawke" Zevran soothed. "You're all in distress. Everyone reacts differently."

"I suppose you want to speak to me now?" Lendra said as she led the detectives back downstairs, none of them noticing Carver slipping a piece of paper into Alistair's pocket.

"Yes please" Alistair said, "If you feel you're up to it."

Back in the living room, Malcolm held his wife's hand comfortingly as they talked.

"Caelan is… headstrong" Leandra said slowly when asked to describe her son. "Impulsive. Hot-headed, at times."  
"We understand he had a fight with Fenris?" Leandra's mouth curled in disgust.

"Yes. Fenris. He's a drunk, did you know that? Sullied our Anna. She was engaged to a good man and threw it all away for a... " she didn't finish the sentence, but the way she looked at Zevran's pointed ears said everything. "Stubborn, she is. Like her brother. Threw everything away for… for sex."

Alistair felt a bit disconcerted; the vitriol he faced now was not at all what he had expected from her.

"And Caelan?" Zevran asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"He was a wild thing when he was young, very handsome and charming. Then he met Merrill… I thought he'd settle down." Leandra made a helpless gesture. "It wasn't what I wanted for him but… she seemed to calm him down a bit."

Alistair drew more doodles in his notebook and tried to make sense of what he was hearing. There was something very important not being said, but he couldn't figure it out.

"Can you tell me about when he met Anders?" he tried, hoping it'd make the waters less muddy.

"It was at my first vernissage." Leandra lit up, "I sold six paintings that night! Bethany brought Anders, such a charming man, and a good job, too! They looked so good together. And then Caelan-" she made an odd noise Alistair couldn't interpret.

"Well, Caelan wanted him. And Anders… well, there's never been a man able to resist Caelan when he turns on the charm. No woman either."

"Can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt Caelan?"  
"No. well, Fenris maybe. They had a fight."

"Yes, we have been told. Thank you Mrs Hawke. We may come back."

"Of course, detective. Anytime."

Back in the car, neither Alistair nor Zevran noticed a piece of paper slipping from Alistair's pocket and down between the seat and the door, coming to rest on the floor.

* * *

Anna Hawke was wearing a very pretty red blouse that made her look ethereally beautiful as she let the detectives into her home and offered them coffee.

"No, thank you" Alistair declined politely, "we just want to talk."  
They sat down around the worn kitchen table.

"Can you tell us a little about Caelan and Anders? How did they meet? What are they like together?"

"They're…" Anna thought about it for a moment. "They fit. So in love. So disgustingly happy. After they met, Caelan works cats into everything you know? Because Anders loves cats."

"I'm sorry, works cats into-?"  
"He's a carpenter. Really good, too. Makes custom furniture." Alistair thought of his hallway table. He couldn't remember where Beatrice had bought it, but she had said she bought it from the artist himself.

"How did they meet?"

"At my mother's vernissage. It was awkward - Caelan was engaged at the time, but he told me later that he took one look at Anders and knew. Isn't that romantic?"

"Very. How did his fiancee take it?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest, Merrill and I never got along, she was more Bethany's style. Poor Bethany."

"Why do you say poor Bethany?"

"Anders was her teacher at the time, at college. Pre-med. Well, she had a mammoth crush on im. That's why she invited him. My idea, I'm afraid. I didn't count on Caelan. He's always been… irresistible." she smiled and shook her head in fond exasperation. "I told him once that if he wasn't so crazy about Anders I'd worry about him stealing Fenris from me."

Alistair hummed, looking down at his notes.

"About Thursday night - you were all at your parent's house?" Anna seemed a bit surprised at the sharp turn in questions, but she answered obediently.

"Yes, that's right."

"But Fenris wasn't."

"No. he… he and mother don't really get along."  
"Can you tell us why?"

Anna made a face.

"She thinks he… sullied me, I think she calls it. I've given up on trying to make her understand that it was all me."

"All you?"

"Yeah. All me."

 _-flashback: three years ago-_

 _Anna smiled at the elderly woman who let her in._

 _"Miss Hawke, please forgive me for not being able to stay and give you a proper tour-"_

 _"It's alright, ma'am, I got an excellent tour last time." Anna flashed her most winning smile at the other woman, trying not to show how nervous she was over what she was really there for._

 _"Please, call me Arianni. Have you set a date yet?"_

 _"Yes, Sebastian insists on the fifteenth of Bloomingtide." she hadn't wanted a Bloomingtide wedding, since she'd dreamt about an autumn wedding since she was little, but Sebastian had been… very convincing._

 _"Bloomingtide? That's soon, dear. But we'll do everything we can to make your great day wonderful."_

 _"I'm sure you will. Thank you."_

 _"Well, I must go. Fenris is around, if you have any questions he'll do his best, I'm sure."_

 _With that, the owner of the party venue hurried towards the exit in a flurry of gauzy red dress and elegant, short grey hair. Anna watched her go, wondering if she was making the mistake of her life. But for the past week, she had been unable to think of anything but the janitor she'd seen when she had toured the place with Sebastian._

 _It was with slightly shaky legs she walked into the grand ballroom, and there he was. Sweeping the floor in wide, almost flamboyant motions he was an elven god come to life, his black shirt making his skin glow like alabaster. He looked up, and his eyes were just as blue as she remembered them. She walked towards him, helplessly, and he let go of the mop. It clattered to the floor, but her brain didn't register the sound. It was only aware of the sound of her heart pounding in her ears and the way his breath hitched and caught as he laid her down on the hardwood floor. And when he pushed into her, his mouth molten fire against hers as he came to rest between her legs, she knew she had made the right choice._

 _-end flashback-_

Alistair looked down at his notes, cheeks burning.

"So. Uhm. When did you get home?"

"I left mum and dad's a little after ten, and it's a ten minute drive, so… twenty past ten, I think?"

"And what did you do when you came home?"

"I turned on the TV and kicked off my shoes. Got my creams out."

"Creams?" Alistair looked up. "Oh, for the arm?"

"Yeah."

"And where was Fenris at this time?"

"I don't know. Out somewhere." All three of them froze at the same moment, realising what she'd just said. Anna, eyes wide with panic, hurriedly backtracked.

"I mean he was outside on the patio-"

"Anna." Alistair said, quietly but firmly. "You're not helping Caelan by lying to us. So, which was it. Was Fenris home or wasn't he?" Anna's lower lip trembled as she whispered, voice barely audible;

"He wasn't home." she started to cry. "Oh maker, he wasn't home. I'm so sorry Kee.. I'm so sorry…"

Zevran looked at Alistair. Alistair looked back, solemn but resigned. He nodded once. Zevran nodded his head towards the window and Alistair immediately spotted what he had seen; Fenris was walking up the driveway.

No words were needed as the two detectives got on the their feet and swiftly moved towards the door. Anna watched them go, teary and confused, but then she turned pale and she got to her feet and hurried after them.

Fenris saw them exit and stayed in his tracks, but he made no sign to resist. Instead, he quietly held out his hands for the cuffs and obediently went with them to the car as Alistair recited what he had dreaded to have to say all day:

"Fenris Hawke, I am arresting you on suspicion of assaulting Caelan Hawke. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence _-"_

He was interrupted by an anguished cry from Anna, where she stood on the threshold.

"Tell them you didn't do it! Fenris! _Tell them it wasn't you!"_


End file.
